Please Don't Go
by Cassiandra
Summary: Elrond has dealt with grief all his life. Now he and his children are forced to day goodbye to Celebrían. Songfic set to Mindy Smith's "One Moment More."


**Author: **Cassiandra

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **Elrond has dealt with grief all his life. Now he and his children are forced to say goodbye to Celebrían. Songfic set to Mindy Smith's _One Moment More_.

**Pairings: **Elrond/Celebrían

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of Tolkien's, just borrowing for the moment.

**Note: **First songfic. Please don't archive without permission. I hope you enjoy reading!

~*~

Please Don't Go

~*~

His hands shook as he placed them in the water. It turned pink with the blood, darkening quickly to a scarlet. So much blood. . .so much pain. . . . The first few hours of his wife's critical healing had been torturous. All the numbing herbs and potions in Imladris had not been enough to ease her pain. Elrond doubted very much that her screams would ever leave his memory. He knew that there would be nights he awoke, soaked with sweat and screaming himself, her wordless cries still echoing in his ears.

The hours after she had passed into blessed unconsciousness had been nearly as bad, for he was constantly checking her pulse because he breathing was so shallow, and her skin had been so cold. The orcs, damned cursed beasts, had injured her body severely.

Now she lay, asleep, healing, as much of the poison removed from her body as he had been able to remove without killing himself. He had come close to give himself up for her, and he still could not decide if he should thank Erestor or beat him for stopping him.

He looked back at her resting form, the bedclothes and her gown clean and pristine white. With his blurring vision and exhaustion-dulled mind, he could pretend she was merely sleeping. Were he to touch her though, he would know without a doubt the dreadful truth.

While Celebrían would be weak in the coming days from the poison and her wounds, her physical body would mend. Elrond was not considered one of Arda's greatest healers for no cause.

He was not, however, a healer of the _fëa_, and his wife had suffered even deeper wounds there than the ones on her body.

He walked, his normally sturdy stride a weary shuffle, and sank into a chair beside the bed. Alone now, his head sank into his hands, and he wept.

~*~

_Hold me_

_Even though I know you're leaving,_

_And show me _

_All the reasons you would stay._

_~*~_

He rushed to her side the moment she awoke, the relief washing through him so powerful that his knees almost gave out. It had been far to long by his estimations, far too long that she had been asleep.

Whatever warmth he had briefly felt quickly disappeared as she jerked away from him, her eyes enormous. _Fear_. She was afraid of him. Stiffly and slowly, he retreated back a few steps. He smiled softly down at her, knew it looked sad.

Celebrían's breathing evened as she gazed up at him, her panic and confusion easing into a calm—if weary—expression. She closed her eyes briefly, then slid her hand across the blankets to where Elrond's own rested. She took it in hers, grasping it weakly.

His legs did give out then, and he knelt by her bed, tightly holding her hand in both of his and kissing it. "Beloved, Beloved," he whispered softly against her fingers, tears still managing to escape from his closed eyes.

"Beloved," she murmured back, tears of her own falling now. It hurt him to hear how weak and dull her voice sounded. The musical quality it had possessed before was not muted, but is was muffled, slightly off. A songbird who had lost the will to sing.

They stayed like that for a long, long while. No words were needed.

~*~

_It's just enough to feel your breath on mine_

_To warm my soul and ease my mind._

_You've got to hold me and show me now._

~*~

She took many walks now, and did not hide from the company of others as she had for many months. She was still quiet, though. She tried, Elrond knew that well enough. She tried to be the lively, pleasant, beautiful wife he had loved and married centuries ago—but it was as if she followed a script. Her face smiled, but her eyes were weary. She laughed, but it was wrong. She tried to hold him, tried to kiss him. Elrond was no fool, though. He could feel her body tremble when he touched her without warning or too quickly. He retreated, then, instead of hurting her more.

Celebrían saw his care and treatment of her, and she both thanked him and loathed herself for it. He could see the tortured look in her eyes at unguarded moments, the regret and pain. Not just for her body's rejection of him, but its rejection of her children.

If she trembled in Elrond's arms, she fairly shook when Elladan and Elrohir had gathered her to them the first time they had seen her out of the healing house. They made sure not to touch her so again. Even Arwen had to take great care around her mother.

Her body had healed well, but Elrond watched with growing despair as she retreated further and further into herself. She was fading.

There was nothing he could do for his wife.

~*~

_Give me_

_Just one part of you to cling to,_

_And keep me_

_Everywhere you are._

~*~

"Elrond," Celebrían whispered.

He turned to look at his wife, the mug of cider he was about to offer her warming his hands, but her eyes were not focused on him. Her blue eyes peered out the open window of his study, the soft autumn wind gently moving the strands of pale blonde hair that lay around her face. As always, he was struck by her—so very different from himself. Like the morning to the evening. She was beautiful.

"Yes, Beloved?" he asked quietly.

She did not answer him immediately, but dragged her gaze away from the window and whatever she was staring at. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Do you hear them—the gulls crying?"

The mug slipped from his hands and shattered as it hit the flagstones.

~*~

_It's just enough to steal my heart and run_

_And fade out with the falling sun._

~*~

Elrond had known, _known_—but still he had hoped that someday, somehow. . . .

"No, my love," Celebrían said after a moment, bemused. "I did not suspect that you could hear the same cries that draw on my heart."

Elrond took unsteady steps to her side, gazing at her numbly. She did not quiver in the slightest as he took her hand in his. Her skin was like ice, and he uttered a sound almost too soft to be heard. The hole where his heart should be hurt him profoundly.

She smiled at him, a small but genuine thing. It was sad, peaceful, apologetic. "I must go."

"Please. . .no. . ." was all he could manage. A broken, selfish, plea.

She shook her head slowly. "Beloved," she whispered, her eyes tearful in her honesty, "you cannot save me." Then she gathered him into her arms as he broke down and wept.

~*~

_Oh, please don't go,_

_Let me have you just one moment more._

_Oh, all I need,_

_All I want is just one moment more._

_You've got to hold me and keep me._

~*~

Elrond helped her gather what she desired to take with her. Listlessly he went through her belongings, stopping often to gaze at some trinket that held memories for them both. Not for the first time, he looked at his surroundings, a room filled with treasures gathered over a lifetime. How empty it would be once she was gone.

In the end, besides some clothes, Celebrían only decided to take with her a few things. Her wedding ring, pictures of her family, and a few dearly-loved odds and ends given to her by her children, husband, and closest friends.

All of it fit into one bag, and Elrond gazed at it for a long while. The chill inside him had grown worse, and it was numbing everything. Now, though, he felt keenly the hot stab of abandonment, the fierce anger at once again having someone he loved taken from him.

He had no doubt the level of anguish his face showed as he looked from the bag to his wife.

"Please. . . ." he whispered again, even though he already knew the answer.

~*~

_Tell me that someday you'll be returning,_

_And maybe,_

_Maybe I'll believe_

~*~

They had traveled slowly, and this was the second night of their journey. Tomorrow night they would reach the Grey Havens.

Elrond drew away from the camp during the night. No one questioned him or stopped him. He did not know where his steps took him, but it was far enough away that even an elf's ears would not be able to hear him. He stopped in the middle of a clearing, staring blindly ahead for a moment before his legs gave out suddenly beneath him.

He did not know how long he remained kneeling in the mud, but the heavy rain had soaked through his cloak and gotten to the clothes beneath. His ink black hair clung to his skull and face. Elves are not affected by cold, but Elrond could attest that half-elves were a little more aware of the elements. The cold of the rain, even when he had been sitting out in it for hours, was nothing compared to the chill emptiness he felt inside.

"Why?" he murmured, then yelled, voice ragged, "_Why?_"

Nothing answered him, and he leaned forward until he rested on hands and knees. He pounded a fist into the wet ground beside him.

"My father, my mother, my brother, my king," he choked, feeling the hot tears mingle with the rain on his face. "Everyone, you took everyone," he accused. "Námo, why do you steal all that I love? Mandos, where is your power?" A sob escaped him, and he covered his mouth as his body began to shake.

He did not know how long it was before he registered another's footsteps, another's soft voice and weeping. Arms wrapped around him, warm and comforting. They mourned together, as they had not before, and then Glorfindel gathered his lord's limp body into his arms and carried him back to camp.

~*~

_It's just enough to see a shooting star_

_To know you're never really far._

_It's just enough to see a shooting star_

_To know you're never really gone._

_~*~_

The party had grown silent as they approached the Havens. The architecture was ancient, the high arches and pointed towers at once welcoming and forbidding. Imladris had been constructed similarly, as Elrond had always thought fondly of the place and the waters that lay beyond. Now he wondered if the similarities of his home would forever remind him of this day.

Elladan and Elrohir sat rigidly in their saddles, having spoken to none but each other these past few days. Arwen hung back with Celeborn and Galadriel, her head bowed and shoulders shaking with gentle sobs. Celebrían had taken a position close to her mother's side, and she remained silent. The times he had glanced back, Elrond could see the silent anguish in her face. She could do nothing to console her children. Their great grief was almost tangible to those around them, no matter what they did to try and hide it.

On either side of Elrond rode Glorfindel and Erestor. Not a few times, one had reached out to gently pull the reins and lead the horse in the right direction when it started to stray. Not a few times, one had steadied Elrond as he lost focus on the world before him.

"Elladan—" came Elrohir's worried voice, accompanied by a thump on the wet ground. Elrond halted the party's progress as he himself came to a stop and turned to look at his eldest son. Elladan stood beside his horse, head down and long, black hair hanging around his face.

Elrond felt his heart ache as his son raised his face to stare at his mother. He had expected fury, resentment, childish petulance—all the strange but typical reactions Elladan had when faced with grief. Not this time. It was hard to make out which tracks on his face were tears and which were made from the rain, but it was clear that his son wept.

Elrond uttered an unbidden, unidentifiable sound when he saw the expression on his son's face. Never had Elladan looked so like a child, so bereft and so utterly _lost_. He knew that if he looked, the expression would be mirrored on Elrohir's face.

Elladan lifted a hand weakly towards his mother. In moments the proud adult had been reduced to a mere elfling. "Nana," he sobbed.

Celebrían slid somewhat ungracefully off of her horse and ran to gather her son in her arms. She did not tremble this time. Seeing this, Elrohir and Arwen dismounted from their own horses and embraced their mother and brother.

Elrond wanted to drop from his horse and run to them himself. He wanted to gather them in his arms and never let go. Anything to delay the inevitable. Anything to make her stay. He couldn't make force himself to move, though. All he could do was offer his family these few brief moments.

After a time, he felt a tugging on his horse. Erestor had taken his reins again and was gently urging the horse to go forward once more.

Elrond met Glorfindel's apologetic eyes, the brilliant sapphire-color dull. "We must go on, my friend. The boat will not wait forever."

He steadied his lord as he swayed once again.

~*~

_Oh, please don't go,_

_Let me have you just one moment more._

_Oh, all I need,_

_All I want is just one moment more._

~*~

The stone wharf, though unmoving, felt unsteady beneath his feet. Moored beside it was the brilliant white ship that would take his wife away from him.

To a land where she would rest and be rejuvenated, to a land where the memories of the horrible wrongs done to her could fade—to a land where he could not follow for many, many years.

Celebrían made her farewells to the friends that had accompanied them—so many from Lórien and Imladris. She spent a longer time with her children and parents, weeping, at times laughing, and just holding them. In the end, she came to Elrond.

He stood before, his arms feeling like lead even though he wanted to take her in his arms and never let go. He felt lost, a ship without a compass while a storm roared around him and hid the stars. Tenderly, she touched his face, slipping long, gentle fingers into his hair.

"This is not for forever," she said as she looked into the silver eyes of her husband. Then she was enveloped in the fiercest embrace he had given her yet. It was the grip of a dying man, adrift at sea, who has just found a battered plank from his ship.

"I cannot do this," he whispered, breathing harsh and erratic. His heart thundered in his chest. "I cannot. There is so much . . .so much to do. . .without you, I—" he stopped, at a loss. "I will fade, Celebrían. I think this time I will fade." He cringed, realizing his words could be taken as an accusation. His wife did not take it as such, however.

"No you won't, Beloved," she said, her gaze loving but firm. "Elrond Peredhel is much too strong to fade. Grief has ever been your companion, however wretched a companion it has been. You will not permit yourself the same weakness that has overcome me." She shushed his protests. "While there is work to be done, you will not allow yourself to fail."

No words came to him, so he merely buried his face in her shoulder and neck. The strands of her hair were still as fine and soft as silk, the smell of her sweeter than any flower he had ever come in contact with. He made a valiant effort not to damper her hair and the cloth of her dress. She did not fault him, but soothed him gently as she had her children when they were young, rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort. Elrond, though not insufferable like many of the Eldar could be, still had his pride. There were few times he had freely wept in the sight of so many.

"This is not for forever, my Beloved," she said again.

~*~

_Oh, please don't go,_

_Let me have you just one moment more._

_Oh, all I need,_

_All I want is just one moment more._

_You've got to hold me, and maybe I'll believe._

~*~

Numb, silent, cold beyond belief, Elrond watched the boat drift away from the wharf. Celebrían stood where she could watch her family, and they her, as the boat came nearer and nearer the high walls and towers that marked the exit to the sea.

He watched her disappear over the horizon, the fading sunlight catching the brilliant white of the ship and causing it to glow for an instant. Then it was gone, out of sight, carrying with it his wife and his heart.

He would not sleep the same again, waking to the dark room and searching in vain for the one that was supposed to be beside him. He would not truly smile for many years. His family would not be the same as it had been, becoming distant.

Above all, though. . .he would not fade—and someday, his family would begin to mend the broken pieces as best they could.

It was not for forever.

~*~

_So hold me_

_Even though I know you're leaving._

~*~

~~FINIS

Thank you for reading! Review if you enjoyed or if you have any constructive criticism.


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